


Someone to Trust

by redseeker



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rating May Change, Sort Of, Starscream defected, starscream is a mess, taking some creative liberties with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redseeker/pseuds/redseeker
Summary: After Optimus accepts Starscream's plea to join the Autobots, Starscream struggles to adjust. The other Autobots still view him with suspicion, and he fears his newfound refuge is not as secure as he'd hoped. Can he exploit Optimus's kindness for his own gain, or will he end up falling for his own scam?
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Starscream
Comments: 85
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an indulgent mess but I'm having fun. Expect lots of fluff and sweetness, these boys are SO soft :P

“Autobots, retreat!” 

Starscream heard Optimus Prime’s order across the battlefield and snarled in frustration. The objective was within his reach, if they retreated now it would be lost! The Decepticons had them pinned down, but Starscream was fast, he could slip through the enemy fire and grab that relic and still make it back to the ground bridge. His mind made up, he leapt into the air and transformed. His thruster propelled him forward, and he sliced through air like a blade. Vehicons’ blaster shots whizzed past him, singeing his armour, but he was quicker, he was agile, in the sky he was in his element and nothing could stop him. He cleared some space with his own blasters and dived, ready to transform and grab the prize. Oh, the Prime would be so pleased with him for bringing home the victory, Starscream would be in his favour now for sure! And the other Autobots, they would have to overlook his past mistakes and accept him. He would prove his usefulness and make sure none of them ever regretted taking him in again! 

A sudden impact knocked him off course and sent him into a wild spin, and his wing flamed in agony. He transformed and crash-landed, barely managing to keep his footing as his sharp heels cut furroughs in the dusty earth. He transformed out his blasters and turned to vapourise his attacker – only to freeze up when he saw Megatron himself advancing toward him, his fusion cannon still smoking. All Starscream’s bravery evaporated in an instant. He backed up, tripped over his own feet and fell on his aft. He was surrounded, cut off from his allies, and face to face with the one mech in the galaxy who most wanted him dead. He transformed his blasters away in favour of cowering behind his hands. His wings dipped low, even the one that was still smouldering from Megatron’s cannon blast, and his tank felt like it was about to empty from fear alone. 

“M-Megatron,” he pleaded. Megatron’s footfalls shook the ground as he got closer. “Please, have mercy... “

“Traitor!” Megatron growled. “You have finally run out of chances, Starscream. Your other treacheries I forgave, but selling your spark to the Autobots? That’s a step too far, even for you.” 

Starscream stared down the barrel of Megatron’s fusion cannon, saw the pink glow intensify as he prepared to shoot. He couldn’t look. His own weapons were forgotten, his pride of only moments before nowhere to be found. All he could do was make himself as small a target as possible and cover his helm with his hands, and pray to Primus for a quick death.

Megatron fired, but his shot missed. Starscream dared to peek and saw the warlord was under Autobot fire, and the next instant Optimus Prime slammed into Megatron and grappled him to the floor. Starsream stared, dumbfounded, as Optimus pounded dents into Megatron’s armour. He regained his senses only when Optimus shouted, “Starscream! Get to the ground bridge!” 

Starscream sprang to his feet, but hesitated. There were no other Autobots in sight, and while Optimus dueled Megatron, the vehicons were closing in. If he took flight now, the Prime would be scrap metal for sure. And if Starscream returned to the base and left Optimus to die? He didn’t even want to think about what the other Autobots would do to him then. With a curse, he fired a missile into the advancing line of vehicons, carefully aimed to take out as many as possible, and then used his blasters to clear a path. “Prime!” he yelled. “Leave him, let’s go!” 

Optimus gave Megatron a sound kick, forcing the warlord to his knees, and then turned to run after Starscream. Starscream was relieved – he’d half believed Optimus would insist on staying to continue his fight with Megatron, even though it was clearly unwinnable. Optimus was a force to be reckoned with, but they just couldn’t take the risk when they were this outnumbered. As soon as Optimus was moving, Starscream leapt into the air and transformed. He fired into the vehicons that stood between Optimus and the Autobot ground bridge to clear Optimus a path, and then swooped over the bridge and looped back for another pass. His damaged wing made it hard to fly straight, but Starscream didn’t get to be the Decepticon Air Commander by not knowing how to stay in the air when things got dicey. 

To his frustration, Optimus had stopped when he reached the bridge and was still fending off drones. Megatron had recovered, and was advancing with murder in his optics. Why hadn’t the Prime escaped already? Didn’t he know he was putting himself in unnecessary danger? What was he waiting around for? 

“Starscream! Through the ground bridge!” 

“You first!” Starscream yelled back. He was approaching the bridge at speed, and fired a few pot shots at his former Decepticon comrades as he went. He saw the hesitation in Optimus’s stance, but then he gave in. He ran into the swirling green portal a moment before Starscream flew into it after him. 

They tumbled out the other side together, having collided on the way. The portal closed as soon as they came through, and the rest of the Autobots descended on them. Starscream transformed and escaped from under Optimus’s heavy frame, only to come face to face with Arcee, who looked like she was out for blood. He took up a deferential stance at once, only to flinch when the motion tweaked his wing. 

Meanwhile, Ratchet had already begun haranguing Optimus. “How could you be so reckless?” he demanded. “Optimus, you could have been killed.” 

“An Autobot never leaves a comrade behind,” Optimus said as he picked himself up and dusted himself off. Megatron had given him a few dents too, including a shining bruise around his left optic that would be swollen and blue by tomorrow. 

“He’s not a comrade,” Arcee said without taking her optics off Starscream. “He’ll never be an Autobot.”

“Ratchet,” Optimus said, as the medic fussed over his damage. “Starscream is more badly wounded, his wing needs urgent attention. Arcee, Starscream has made considerable sacrifices to be here with us today, and he fought alongside us with honour.”

“Honour?” Arcee scoffed. “He doesn’t know anything about honour,  _ or _ sacrifice.” She gave Starscream one last contemptuous look before stalking away. 

Ratchet beckoned him, and Starscream followed the doctor back to the medical bay with wings downcast. Ratchet tutted and sighed over his repairs, but otherwise didn’t voice the disapproval Starscream was sure he had for Starscream’s reckless actions. His failure hovered over him, and for every minute it wasn’t spoken of, the twisting tension in Starscream’s fuel tank got worse. He had miscalculated and failed to obtain the relic, had put himself in danger and, worst of all, had caused Optimus to come and rescue him. Megatron had beaten him for smaller mistakes. He had yet to see Optimus discipline his team, but knew this failure couldn’t possibly go unanswered. So he was uncharacteristically quiet as Ratchet fixed him up, while his mind ran through a million horrible possibilities of what the Prime had in store. 

Ratchet finished with him and sent him on his way, and Starscream was just about to scuttle off to his room and hope everybot forgot about him when none other than Optimus Prime blocked his path. Starscream stared up at him and gulped. “O-Optimus,” he stuttered, wings folding down his back. He bobbed an awkward bow. “Lord- I mean, uh, Master. Apologies.” 

He heard Optimus’s hydraulics hiss and his engine choke for a moment, and then Optimus said, “Starscream, please call me Optimus. I am nobody’s master, least of all yours.” Starscream straightened, but kept his wings low and his head ducked. Optimus cleared his throat, and then said, “How is your wing?” 

“What?” Starscream’s head shot up and he blinked in surprise. “Oh, my wing. It’s fine, never better,” he said with a nervous titter. He wasn’t soothed byOptimus’s solicitous demeanour – Megatron had pulled the same trick on him plenty of times. He would pretend to care about Starscream’s wellbeing, lull him into a false sense of security, and then, when Starscream’s defenses were down, then he would let the mask fall and humiliate and hurt him worse than ever. “Ratchet did a creditable job, although he’s no Knock Out. Don’t tell him I said that. And don’t tell Knock Out I said that either, he’s vain enough. Ha ha,” he babbled. There was a beat of nervous silence wherein Starscream was unable to meet Optimus’s optics. “Well, if that’s everything,” he said eventually. “I think I’ll just… be going…”

“Starscream, wait.” Optimus’s hand closed on Starscream’s shoulder as the seeker started to turn away, and Starscream yelped. Optimus withdrew his servo at once, but the damage was done, and the deep frown on his face only made Starscream more sure that this was the moment he feared, that the time had finally come for him to pay for his reckless mistake. As much as he wanted to keep his pride and take his beating with his head held high, panic got the better of him and he fell back on millions of years of tried-and-tested survival instincts. 

In short, he begged. 

He fell to his knees and pleaded, hands clasped, for Optimus to be merciful, to take pity on a poor, pathetic seeker who had only had the best of intentions, even though he was a fool whose idiocy had cost them the mission and nearly Optimus’s life. He was so caught up in his frantic grovelling that he didn’t notice Optimus had knelt also until Optimus’s large hands gently closed around his own and drew them away from his helm. Starscream blinked open his optics, unaware of when he had closed them. Lifting his head, he found himself staring into Optimus’s eyes and unable to look away. Had they always been that blue? They were vibrant as the Earthian sky itself, and as bright as stars. 

“Starscream?”

“I…I…” Starscream was finding it hard to draw breath. His fans creaked with the effort of keeping him cool.

“Please relax,” Optimus said. “I’m not going to… hurt you. I must admit, I do not quite understand the reason for your distress, but rest assured you are safe here.” 

“I… But the mission. I  _ failed _ , we lost the relic, and you were wounded, I disobeyed a direct order–” 

“Starscream. Not every mission can be a success, but the responsibility for that does not rest solely on your shoulders. If any bot is responsible, it’s me. And as for disobeying orders – although you may be allied with us currently, you are still not an Autobot. Therefore I have no right to order you to do anything,” Optimus finished, with just the smallest hint of a smile. 

Starscream couldn’t wrap his processor around what he was hearing. It was so much the opposite of Megatron’s approach that he almost laughed and mocked Optimus for being weak, but he was still too shaken up and frightened, so all he did was sniff and look bashfully away. “So,” he croaked after a moment. “You’re…  _ not _ going to punish me?” 

“No, I am not. You fought bravely today. I am proud to fight by your side.” Starscream stared at him, sure there would be a catch, that he was being set up for a reprisal, but he found nothing but honesty in Optimus’s eyes. Energon rushed to his cheeks, tinting his face-plates faintly blue. “Next time I would prefer if you didn’t put yourself in such danger,” Optimus added. “While I appreciate your dedication to the mission, your safety is more important than any relic we could obtain.” 

Flustered, Starscream looked down and prayed his blush wasn’t too obvious. His spark was pulsing in an unfamiliar way, almost painful, and he suddenly knew he needed to get away before he embarrassed himself any further. Optimus started to stand up, and gently helped Starscream to his feet also. He was still holding Starscream’s hands, and once they were upright he gave Starscream’s servos a little squeeze, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles. 

“I…” Starscream’s wings flicked back and forth, betraying his uncertainty. His instinct was to spurn Optimus’s reassurance and his kindness, to hit back before he allowed himself to be let down. But this was  _ Optimus Prime _ . Finally, he muttered, “Perhaps I could be more careful next time.”

He looked up to see Optimus smile, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “I am glad to hear that,” Optimus said.

From that day on, Starscream couldn’t stop thinking about Optimus’s words, nor the gentle conviction with which he said them. He went out of his way to hear more like them. He fluttered around Optimus as he once had around Megatron, only Optimus never sent him away with a backhand and a growled order to stop bothering him. Optimus was patient, and even when he was busy he always greeted Starscream with a smile – a small, restrained smile, the smile of a bot unused to expressing himself, but a genuine one all the same. When Starscream brought him a stack of reports he had compiled regarding Decepticon energon stores and projected fuel yield for the coming year, Optimus thanked him. Then, later, as they took their evening cube, he told him he’d done “good work”. 

Optimus’s words bounced around Starscream’s head for days. He fell into recharge thinking about them, and throughout his day his mind would repeatedly return to that sweet moment of validation and never fail to bring a smug smile to his face. He, Starscream, had gained the approval and respect of Optimus Prime himself? Well of course, it was nothing more than he deserved. He was Starscream, elite energon seeker, scion of one of the great houses of Vos, and rightful leader of the Decepticons. As leader of the Autobots, Optimus was his peer, or so he saw it. Optimus had risen from his humble beginnings and become a great warrior and leader; so too would Starscream rise from his humiliating subjugation under Megatron to become the great mech he was always meant to be. 

The only fly in the ointment was the disapproving and cold attitudes of the other Autobots. He bore their glares with dignity, even though they stung. “Don’t think we don’t know what you’re doing,” Arcee said to him one day, as she passed him in the hallway. She had Wheeljack and Bulkhead with her, who both matched her venomous glare. “We all see it.” 

“And what is that?” Starscream answered acidly. He had a crate of energon cubes in his arms as he was helping Ratchet with inventory. It was menial work, far below him, but Optimus had looked at him expectantly when Ratchet asked for volunteers, and Starscream hadn’t been able to disappoint him. 

“Toadying up to Optimus,” Bulkhead said. Starscream shifted on his pedes; the big Wrecker made him nervous. “C’mon Screamer, could you be any more obvious?” 

“Psh, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Starscream. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get these energon cubes to the lower storage area before Ratchet blows a fuse.” He began to walk away, when Wheeljack blocked his path with his arm, his hand against the wall. Starscream sneered at him. “Get out of my way,” he said imperiously. 

“Not so fast,” Arcee said. “Optimus wants to see the best in everyone, but you can’t fool the rest of us so easily.”

“Why Arcee, are you suggesting your wise leader is so easily misled?”

“That’s not what she meant,” Bulkhead growled, making Starscream flinch. The three of them were standing too close to him now, crowding him against the wall. He held the crate of energon cubes in front of his body as a barrier. 

“That’s what it sounded like,” Starscream said. 

“Just know that we’re watching you,” said Arcee, thrusting a digit at his face. “And whatever you’re scheming, it won’t work.” 

“Noted,” Starscream said with a curl of his lip. “Now may I pass?” 

The trio menaced him for a moment longer, and then, finally, Wheeljack stepped back. There was a silent threat in his body language, and Starscream remembered that this Wrecker had also claimed his share of Decepticon lives. Starscream hurried away from the three Autobots as soon as he could, and felt their hostile gazes upon his back until he turned the corner. 

He was still thinking about the encounter while he was sorting and putting away Ratchet’s energon cubes. It hadn’t been his intention to curry favour with Optimus using underhanded tactics – he was supposed to have turned over a new leaf, after all – but now he thought about it, the Autobots might just be onto a good idea. If he earned Optimus Prime’s friendship, he would be in a safer position to fend off the distrust and accusations of the other Autobots. They wouldn’t go against their leader. They weren’t  _ Decepticons _ . 

A sly smirk spread across his face as he plotted. Perhaps he would simply continue to work his way into Optimus’s good books in whatever way he could, since it was what everyone expected him to do anyway. It was the smart thing to do to ensure his future survival and safety, and it absolutely, definitely had nothing at all to do with the way his spark fizzed whenever Optimus smiled at him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Optimus liked working late in the night when everyone else was in recharge, when the base was peaceful and quiet and the only sound was the clacking of Optimus’s fingers on the keyboard. Ratchet kept insisting he leave the clerical work to the more junior Autobots, but Optimus, for all he had been reformatted into a warrior, still felt the most at home logging reports, compiling data, and managing documents. He was confident with it, and it relaxed him, and he needed that relaxation on nights like this when recharge was elusive.

Tonight was no different than usual, except his thoughts kept wandering off his work and toward the subject of a certain silver seeker. Starscream had been with them for two months now, and it hadn’t been anything like Optimus could have predicted. He had been hesitant to grant Starscream’s plea and let him join the Autobots, but ultimately his conscience had won out. If freedom was to be the right of all sentient beings, then that must extend to Decepticons as well. Even Optimus, who had called Megatron his friend once upon a time, could admit that as long as Starscream was under Megatron’s heel, he was not free. If he wanted to escape from Megatron’s tyranny then Optimus and the Autobots should do everything in their power to make that happen. Every soldier Megatron lost was an advantage to the Autobot campaign, especially such an asset as Starscream. Formerly a prince of Vos, the ancient and isolated city once famed as much for its warriors’ ferocity as for its seekers’ beauty, Starscream was a dangerous mech with a notorious reputation stretching all the way back to before the start of the war. On the battlefield Starscream was formidable – or, he had been, before whatever Megatron did to him to turn him from a proud warrior into the cringing, frightened creature who had flinched away from Optimus’s touch and pleaded with him to spare his sorry life. 

Optimus hadn’t known how to act. He was used to inspiring respect, not fear. It sat so ill with him that he still felt sick to his fuel tank when he thought about it. The look in Starscream’s eyes… Optimus’s spark broke for him. He wondered what in the ‘verse had happened to him to reduce him to such behaviour, while at the same time he was certain he never wanted to know. He had hoped Starscream would calm down once he became settled in a safer environment; with the Autobots, he had a private room of his own, regular energon, and both the time and opportunity to put his many skills to good use. He helped Ratchet with his scientific projects, freeing Ratchet’s time up to focus on more medical matters; he provided the team with intelligence on Decepticon strategy and fuel caches; and he had already proved invaluable in battle, now the team had decided he was trustworthy enough to fight at their side. He provided air support the Autobots had been sorely lacking, and though he had only been out on a couple of missions so far, he had performed admirably.

Until that last mission. 

Until he had to face Megatron. 

The seeker had unravelled in front of his former master. His injury had not been so bad he couldn’t have kept fighting – no, it was merely Megatron’s presence itself that had rendered Starscream helpless. That was a problem. If he was going to do that every time they encountered Megatron, he was a risk not only to himself but to the rest of the team. 

Not to mention it hurt to see Starscream – or anyone – suffer like that. Someone had to do something, and since it was Optimus who brought Starscream into their midst, the responsibility fell to him. 

This was what he had decided in the immediate aftermath of that mission, which was two weeks ago already. In that time, Starscream had not left the base, and Optimus could tell he was chafing at being unable to fly. He seemed to be hovering nearby every time Optimus looked around, fluttering his wings and offering to take on even more work, even though Optimus already knew he was overloaded. The other bots had caught on to the seeker’s restlessness and taken advantage, miring Starscream in paperwork and drudgery. Optimus frowned on such behaviour, but there was little he could do when Starscream gamely accepted every new workload without even a complaint. Still, Optimus could tell he wasn’t happy. He worked himself to the bone, and whether that was because he was restive from being grounded or because he was still trying to prove he was useful enough to keep, Optimus couldn’t let him go on like this. He would wear himself out. 

Optimus had just resolved to do something about it when a sound caught his attention. A light tapping, like a bot tip-toeing in a nearby corridor. The only Autobot with steps that light was Arcee, but the rhythm wasn’t right for her – Arcee strode everywhere with purpose, but these steps stopped and started as though the bot was anxious about being followed or heard. “Speak of the Unmaker,” Optimus murmured to himself. He saved his work and powered down the terminal, and then went to seek out the seeker. He entered the corridor just in time to see the flash of silver wings disappearing around the corner. Intrigued, Optimus followed. It occurred to him that a Decepticon wandering around the Autobot base at night ought to worry him. They had stopped locking Starscream in his room early on, but there was always the slim chance he had been fooling them all and planned to destroy them from the inside. 

Even with this thought in his mind, Optimus was calm. He followed Starscream’s trail until he reached the glorified closet where Ratchet kept his limited medical supplies. Inside, he found Starscream peering at the shelves and muttering to himself. Optimus refreshed his vocaliser to announce his presence, and Starscream practically leapt into the air. Whirling around, Starscream stared at him with wide optics. Unfortunately, as he turned his flailing wings swept a number of cubes and bottles off the shelf behind him, which fell to the floor and smashed. Starscream yelped and danced out of the way of the broken glass and spilled medicine, already with a terrified apology on the tip of his glossa. 

“Don’t,” Optimus commanded before he could even think about it. Starscream froze, all except the tips of his wings, which trembled. Optimus deliberately softened his voice and said, “Accidents happen. I startled you.” 

“You didn’t startle me,” Starscream scoffed. “I was merely– I… uh,” Starscream trailed off, looking around at the mess. 

“Looking for something?” Optimus prompted. 

Starscream stared hard at him until he seemed to decide Optimus  _ wasn’t _ going to threaten him. “Yes,” he admitted. “I… Knock Out used to make me a draught to aid recharge sometimes. I never got the formula from him but I’m sure I could recreate it, given the right ingredients…”

Optimus moved into the small room, never more aware of his size compared to the seeker. Starscream backed away, and Optimus made sure to move away from the door so he wasn’t inadvertently blocking it. Then he bent and started to pick up the larger pieces of broken glass. After a hesitation, and a nervous glance at the exit, Starscream joined him. 

“Do you often have trouble recharging?” Optimus said after they had worked for a few minutes. He found an empty tub to put the broken pieces in, and Starscream used his narrow claws to pick up the smaller shards. It was surprisingly companionable.

“It’s not that I can’t sleep,” Starscream said. “It’s what my processor throws at me when I do. My dreams are… not pleasant.” He rose and put the tub of broken glass on the counter, and then, at Optimus’s direction, retrieved a mop from the corner. It was an improvised thing, but it had been necessary to procure one of Cybertronian proportions given the mess the three children – not to mention the two Wreckers – tended to make. Optimus found a rag and knelt once more to do what he could to help. From his position on his knees, he looked up at Starscream and said, “I too struggle to recharge peacefully.”

“Ha. You? Optimus Prime has nightmares?” Starscream scoffed. Optimus hid his smile. During the day Starscream was eager to please, bordering on obsequious. Here, in the middle of the night, blurred by exhaustion and safe from the other Autobots’ critical optics, he let some of his true acerbic personality show through. Optimus wasn’t offended. On the contrary, he was pleased to see him unwind enough to drop the facade, and a little bit proud that he was the one with whom Starscream felt comfortable enough to be himself. 

In answer to Starscream’s question, Optimus said, “I am afraid so. Although I often find it challenging to initiate a recharge cycle at all.”

“Are you sure you should be revealing your weaknesses like this?” Starscream said with a smirk.

“Can you think of a reason why I should not?” 

Starscream gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Oh, besides me being a notorious Decepticon who’s spent four million years trying to slaughter you? Haven’t you heard? I’m an infamous traitor and a coward. Or is it that I’m so diminished and pitiful I am no longer even considered a threat?”

Optimus rose and frowned. He put the cloth into the tub with the broken glass, to be dealt with in the morning, and then turned back to Starscream. Starscream clutched the mop handle so hard it started to splinter. “What happened on the battlefield with Megatron will not always happen,” he said. Starscream’s wings jerked roughly downwards and he hissed. Optimus immediately worried he had said the wrong thing. “I do not presume to know what life was like for you on the  _ Nemesis _ , but I can guarantee no-one here thinks less of you for what happened.”

“Is that why I’m confined to this underground prison once more?” 

Frowning, Optimus said, “We agreed it was best to keep you away from the front line for the time being, for your own wellbeing. You are free to leave if you wish.”

Starscream sighed and turned to lean the mop back in its corner. Then he folded his arms with a huff. “As if I had anywhere to go, anyway.”

Optimus thought for a moment; he knew Ratchet would give him an earful in the morning for this, but he didn’t quite feel like himself tonight. Or rather, he felt  _ more  _ like himself – and less like the Prime. “Would you like to go somewhere now?” he said. 

Starscream turned – more carefully this time – and stared at Optimus all over again. “Now?” 

“Since neither of us can recharge, perhaps we could enjoy a little ‘down-time’, as the children say.” It sounded even more awkward when he said it out loud. He wished he had his mask up to hide behind. Of course Starscream wouldn’t want to go to a secondary location alone with a potential enemy, what had he been thinking?

“Let’s go.”

“I… pardon?” 

“Let’s go,” Starscream said. He was looking at Optimus with a strange light in his optics, and Optimus wished not for the first time that he better knew how to read the small movements of his wings. Sarscream’s face split into a grin. “Let’s sneak out.” 

Optimus returned to the main room, this time with Starscream in tow. Feeling a bit like a protoform sneaking energon cookies from the jar, Optimus entered a set of coordinates into the terminal and opened up the ground bridge. This was a spot he had found quite by accident on the human application 'Google Earth' a few days earlier, and he had made a note of the coordinates. At the time he hadn't had a plan in mind, but perhaps subconsciously he was already thinking of an outing just like this.  He gave Starscream a small reassuring smile, and stepped through the portal. 

They emerged onto a high mountain ridge beneath an arcing, star-studded sky. The path was rough and only just wide enough for a bot to walk, and almost sheer drops on either side promised a painful death to anyone but an aerial. Starscream took a few steps into the night and gazed around with a guileless smile on his face. Optimus paused to watch how the stars reflected in Starscream’s glossy armour. “I do not anticipate any trouble from the Decepticons,” he told Starscream. “This location is remote, and there are no energon deposits nearby. Even so, we should not linger too long.”

“I’m not afraid,” said Starscream. He wandered further, picking his way carefully across the rocky terrain with his delicate pedes. Optimus followed behind with a more steady tread. He didn’t want to crowd Starscream, even though here the aerial was in his element. He could fly away from Optimus and never see him again, or unbalance him with a shot and send him rolling down the mountainside. Starscream must have instinctively figured that out as well, because his body language became looser as he walked, and he started to stand up straighter. Optimus admired the sheen of moonlight on the smooth planes of his wings and the ergonomic design of his frame. He had a distant memory of seeing the Vosian prince before the war, from afar; Starscream had been bulkier then, more like a typical seeker, and his armour had blazed with colour. His frame had been pared back since then, the sacrifices he had made in pursuit of speed had left him incredibly vulnerable, a fact he was uncomfortably confident Megatron took advantage of. The thought of Megatron’s fists and claws finding those thin wing plates and exposed cables made a fierce protective instinct rise within Optimus’s spark. It was the same way he felt about all of his team… or at least, that’s what he told himself. 

“It’s pretty high up here for a grounder,” said Starscream. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall?” He turned and gave Optimus a crooked smile. Optimus tripped and barely caught himself before he could tumble head-first off the mountain. Starscream snickered. He walked backwards, fully facing Optimus now, and said, “Careful. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to catch you, and then where will we be? Your Autobot friends will think I assassinated the mighty Prime.” 

“They will come around in time,” Optimus said gently, having recognised the real anxiety behind Starscream’s flippant joke. “Every day you prove yourself more worthy of their trust.”

“Trust?” Starscream’s expression faltered and he turned away. “I doubt I will ever do enough to win some of them over. They want me to be repentant, to be eaten up by remorse for my actions. It’s true, I’ve made mistakes, but I won’t hate myself for the choices I’ve made. We’ve been at war for millions of years, there isn’t a bot among us who hasn’t done terrible things, and anyone who says they haven’t is a liar.” Optimus came closer, approaching carefully as though Starscream were a wild animal who might lash out if he moved too suddenly. “Even you, o great Prime,” Starscream spat. 

Optimus cycled a deep breath. “Would you like to take a flight?” he said. 

Starscream spun around. “What?” 

Optimus knew the aggression crackling in Starscream’s field and displayed in the wide flare of his wings was a misplaced response to vulnerability. Optimus doubted any Decepticon was used to overtures of friendship or goodwill, Starscream perhaps least of all. He thanked the Matrix for blessing him with the insight to see a damaged mech in need of help, and the patience to treat him kindly despite the small rewards. “The sky is clear, and we cannot be certain when you will have another chance,” he said.

“What makes you so sure I won’t just fly back to the  _ Nemesis _ ?” 

“That is the thing about trust, Starscream,” Optimus said gently. “In order to win it, you must first give it. I am trusting you to stay true to the decisions you have made and the new direction you want your life to take. In return, I hope you can learn to trust that I have your best interests at spark. I have noticed how hard you work, you do not need to do anything else to win me over.” He didn’t say any more. Starscream already looked discomfited enough, and he worried laying it on too thick would just drive him away. 

After scrutinising him with a suspicious glare, Starscream glanced back up at the sky. His wings flexed, perhaps unconsciously. Then, seeming to have reached a decision, he threw a grin at Optimus and said, “Watch this.” He took a running leap off the steepest side of the ledge, transformed gracefully and swooped up into the air an instant before he could crash into the rocks below. Optimus felt an upsurge of joy watching the seeker’s bold upward arc; Starscream shot into the sky and then flowed straight into an elaborate and showy series of turns, dives, and rolls, almost too fast for Optimus to keep track of. Starscream’s joy at finally being back in the air was obvious in the way he flew, and Optimus felt no small amount of pleasure at having been the one to facilitate that happiness. 

After playing in the air for a while Starscream jetted away until Optimus could no longer see him. Optimus reminded himself of his own words, and only hoped the jet didn’t get picked up on Decepticon sensors and attract unwanted attention. He sat down on a jutting outcropping of rock and waited for Starscream to return. 

“You’re too trusting,” Ratchet would tell him. He’d been burned before, befriending the wrong mech, and ought to know better. But Optimus would rather give everybot a chance he didn’t deserve before letting bitterness and fear close off his spark to those who needed a friend, even if it cost him. Starscream was not Megatron. Starscream was his own mech with his own goals and motivations, and if he couldn’t claim to know all the workings of the seeker’s mind, he did trust that, for now, Starscream’s aims aligned with Optimus’s. 

The horizon was just starting to lighten when Optimus heard the whine of jet engines, and looked up to see Starscream arrowing across the sky towards him. He performed a little roll before transforming and landing with a flourish. His fans were roaring and his optics were bright with exertion. There was a smile on his face that had nothing to do with scheming and conquest. His armour sparkled in the predawn light, and Optimus felt the heat of his frame from several feet away. Standing, Optimus offered his hand. “Shall we return?” 

“Better get back before the doctor gets suspicious, do you mean?” He didn’t take Optimus’s hand, but he did follow him back to the open groundbridge.

“You read my mind,” Optimus said, as he and Starscream entered the bridge side by side.


	3. Chapter 3

_“You thought you could get away from me? Your stupidity never fails to astound me, Starscream!” Megatron’s voice boomed throughout the Autobot base. Starscream fled into the depths of the complex, but Megatron’s echoing laughter chased after him. “You can’t run from me, Starscream! I will find you! No matter how far you run, no matter where you hide—or who you hide behind—I will never let you escape!”_

Starscream sat bolt upright in his berth. His fans were screaming and steam issued from his vents. He was shaking. He sat for several moments, staring wild-eyed around the room without recognition. When at last he remembered where he was, his intakes finally started to slow. His chronometer said it was still the dead of night, and the base was quiet.

His little room in the Autobot base was a lot more basic than his elaborate chambers aboard the Nemesis. It lacked many amenities, there was no energon locker or en suite washrack or even a window, and the berth he slept on was hard and small. But it was private, and it should have been safe.

It should have been, but Starscream’s dreams every night told him otherwise. He rose from the berth and paced back and forth. Now he was awake he was buzzing with anxious energy. He had the strong urge to fly, to flee, or even to fight. His weapon systems kept flicking on- and off-line. He wasn’t safe, nowhere was.

When the restless tension became unbearable he burst out of his room and strode through the corridor. He had failed to procure a sleeping draught, and now he cursed himself for leaving it to Optimus to convince Ratchet to make one. What made him think he could trust either of them? Optimus would forget, Ratchet would refuse, the others would think his nightmares were what he deserved—

His train of thought crashed abruptly when he entered the cavernous main room to find he was not alone. Optimus was at the computer terminal, and he turned Starscream’s way when he entered. At first Starscream saw surprise in Optimus’s eyes, which then quickly turned to sympathy. Starscream bristled. His optics darted around the room, checking the exits, the shadows. Soundwave could be lurking anywhere, Megatron was going to break in any minute and slag him—

“Starscream?” Starscream blinked and looked up. He hadn’t been aware of Optimus moving, but now he was directly in front of him and looking down at him with a worried expression. Starscream’s intakes were cycling too fast but he couldn’t seem to regulate them. His fuel pump felt like it was going to explode. “Starscream, should I call Ratchet? You don’t look well.”

Starscream shook his head vigorously and continued trying to suck in breaths. His plating was rattling now with how much he was shaking. He had to get away from here, he couldn’t let Optimus delay him, trap him, he had to escape _right now_! He pressed his optics closed with a grimace, hunched over and pressed a hand to the centre of his chest. He felt dizzy, like he was going to fall into stasis. He couldn’t let that happen, if that happened he would die.

A warm hand on his back grounded him. Optimus rubbed slow circles between Starscream’s wings as Starscream gasped for breath. He listened to that smooth, rumbling voice without understanding the words, but just the sound of Optimus’s vocals was enough to soothe him a little. He whined and grabbed onto Optimus’s other arm. Optimus didn’t pull away, didn’t even wobble. He was as steady as a mountain. After a little while he could make sense of what he was saying. “I’m glad you came to me,” Optimus told him. “You don’t have to go through this alone. That’s it, just keep cycling your intakes, let the air cool your system down. Slow and deep. Try to match them to mine.” At the same time, Optimus’s EM field blanketed his own, wrapping him up in gentle, steady reassurance. Optimus’s aura radiated confidence and authority, both of which Starscream instinctively responded to. If he were really in danger, wouldn’t Optimus know it? Rational thought slowly began to return to him. If Optimus was confident and relaxed, then Starscream could relax too. Megatron did not know the location of the Autobot base. Soundwave was not lurking in the shadows. And, as terrifying as he was in Starscream’s dreams, Megatron was not invincible. As long as Starscream stuck close to Optimus Prime, he was safe. He did as Optimus said, trying to match the rhythm of his intakes to Optimus’s deep, even ones, and little by little the haze of panic receded. He was left shaky and exhausted, embarrassed, but all right.

Optimus guided him to the little seating area the Autobots had constructed and sat him down. “Has this happened before?” Optimus asked. He knelt in front of Starscream’s seat, making Starscream feel like a youngling. Starscream reluctantly nodded. “Often?”

“No,” Starscream said. “Not since… Not for a long time.”

Optimus rose and sat next to Starscream. Starscream didn’t want to examine how relieved he was when the Prime returned his hand to Starscream’s back, and Starscream didn’t have the presence of mind to stop himself from leaning into the gentle touch. “Do you wish to talk about it?” Optimus said.

“Not particularly,” said Starscream with a shake of his head. “It’s an unfortunate glitch that plays up every few thousand years or so. My threat-detection protocols go haywire and send my whole system into meltdown.”

“Did something trigger this reaction tonight?” Optimus said gently.

Starscream didn’t want to reveal any of this to anyone, especially not the leader of the Autobots. He was supposed to be making a good impression on Optimus and convincing him he was a valuable asset and worth keeping around, not exposing his every malfunction and deficiency. He didn’t understand why his processor was letting him down lately—he hadn’t reacted to anything like this in vorns. Even the worst of Megatron’s abuse after he came to Earth, Starscream had weathered without breaking. Now he was finally somewhere safe away from the tyrant, and now he was falling apart? It didn’t make any sense. But when he looked into Optimus’s eyes he felt the easy lie die on his tongue. “The other night,” he said. “I told you I have unpleasant dreams.”

“Did you have one of these dreams tonight?”

Starscream hesitated, and then nodded. He couldn’t lie to Optimus, ludicrous as that was. “It was… Megatron,” he said.

Optimus gave a sympathetic nod. Starscream hated being this vulnerable, and he felt his anxiety rising once more. Optimus’s hand on his back drew him back from the fearful darkness swirling around his head. “Thank you for telling me,” Optimus said. “I would advise speaking to Ratchet if these attacks continue. No one will think less of you.”

“It’s not possible for anyone to think less of me, you mean,” Starscream scoffed. Optimus sighed. He sat back, and Starscream missed the steady pressure of his hand at once. “What about you?” he said, desperate to take the focus off his own failings. “You said you had nightmares too. What do you dream about that could possibly frighten Optimus Prime himself?”

“I suspect the monster that stalks my subconscious is the same one that keeps you from restful recharge,” Optimus said.

“Megatron?”

For the first time, Starscream saw a flash of vulnerability cross Optimus’s face. It was fascinating to see the imperturbable mask slip even for a moment. Fascinating, and disconcerting.

“We were friends once, long ago,” Optimus explained. He looked away, as though gazing into old memories. “We were an unlikely match, but I considered Megatronus my brother, and I loved him. I often wish I had been able to see some hint of what he would become, so I could have done something to stop it then.”

“You blame yourself,” Starscream observed. Optimus’s only reaction was another sigh, and a slight rounding of his shoulders. “You think that if only you could have saved him, you could have stopped him going down the path he did.”

Optimus shrugged and gave him a rueful smile. Starscream was just glad he was looking at him again and not into his memories of Megatron. “It is egotistical of me,” Optimus said. “Of course Megatron’s actions and choices were not my sole responsibility. But as Prime? I cannot help but think I should have handled the situation better.”

“Maybe you could have,” said Starscream. “But that’s four million years in the past. What good is it to blame yourself for things you can’t do anything about?”

“You don’t have regrets?”

“I told you. We’ve all done things, we’ve all changed. I made my choices to keep myself alive, to protect those who belonged to me.”

“And the choice to come here?” Optimus’s voice was so soft, in spite of the hints of pain detectable in his field.

“Megatron is getting more unstable,” Starscream replied. He felt more level-headed now, and as he relaxed his glossa got looser. If he was already laid bare before this mech then there was really no point mincing words. “I really believe that if I stayed he would eventually kill me. But that wasn’t the only reason. Believe it or not, I joined the Decepticons because I believed in the cause. I was an elite from Vos, about as far removed from the injustices a pit fighter from Kaon faced, and there weren’t many of my peers who understood why I would even read any of those essays Megatron put out. He wasn’t even that good a writer. Really, he was barely literate—Vos boasted some of the greatest poets in Cybertronian history, you see—but there was something in there that reached out of the datapad and grabbed you by the spark.”

“I remember,” Optimus murmured, nodding. “I would read every new piece as soon as it was released on the datanet. Sometimes he would even let me read his drafts.”

“Look at us, Megatronus’s two biggest fans,” Starscream snickered. “As a royal I had the clout to steer Vosian policy in Megatron’s favour. I believe I was instrumental in Vos backing the Decepticon side of the war, and at the time I thought I was doing something good. I thought we were on the right side of history.” He drew a shuddering breath and looked down at his flexing claws. They were stained with four million years of energon. “If I had known it would lead to the destruction of my city, my planet, if I’d seen the kind of mech this war would turn me into… what _he_ would turn me into…” A heavy sigh escaped him. There were whole blocks of his memory core he hadn’t accessed for eons, and for good reason. He didn’t want to tap into them now. Once that dam broke there would be no recovering. “I... cared for him as well, you know. I think neither of us wanted to see past what he wanted to show. We wanted to see a hero, a revolutionary, a friend… we didn’t want to see the rotten spark underneath.

“I joined with the Autobots because Megatron is unhinged, and because I believe he no longer has the interests of the Cybertronian people in mind, if he ever did. He’s running the Decepticons into the ground, his decisions are erratic and irrational, he has no regard for his soldiers’ wellbeing. His thirst for power and violence has left Cybertron in ruins, and I believe if left unchecked he will continue until the Cybertronian race is completely extinct.”

Starscream was surprised at himself; he hadn’t known he had such conviction. Where had that come from? He sounded almost like the ambitious young prince who wanted to change the world, whom Starscream thought had perished long ago. When Optimus failed to say anything, Starscream said, “The only option now is to take him out.”

Optimus was quiet for several moments more, long enough for Starscream to think he’d said too much. He had planned to make the Autobots think he had left Megatron’s side because of a moral epiphany, and that he suddenly wanted to do good and atone for his evil ways. It was partly true, but he had never intended to be so clear about his more utilitarian motives. He wanted Megatron gone before he dragged Starscream and every other Cybertronian down to the Pit with him.

Eventually, Optimus said, “I tried for so long to reason with him. I thought that, as my friend, he would at the very least listen to what I had to say. Even after… I kept trying to bring him back.”

“It’s not possible.”

“I refuse to believe any bot is completely beyond redemption.”

“Is that really what you believe, or are you just desperate because you can’t face the truth that you wasted all that time and energy trying to reach a bot who was never worth it in the first place?”

Optimus’s head snapped around and he looked at Starscream with wide optics. Starscream had surprised him, and yes, Starscream had let some of his own anger—at Megatron, at himself—bleed into his vocals. He could tell from Optimus’s expression and the confused, angry vibration of his field that he had overstepped. Starscream ought to be afraid. Just weeks ago he had been petrified at the prospect of facing the Prime’s wrath, but now he was only curious. He knew now that Optimus wouldn’t hurt him. He could practically taste the indignation in Optimus’s fields, and it made something inside Starscream sharpen in interest.

“Starscream,” Optimus rumbled. It was a warning.

“Are you going to tell me to watch my tone?” said Starscream, and Optimus’s brows came down in a deep frown. Starscream’s sensornet thrilled in fear… and delight. He wanted to push him further, he wanted to see that perfect mask come off altogether. “Is this when you punish me for talking out of turn, _Master_ -”

“Stop that.” Optimus was on his feet, and his sharp tone took Starscream’s breath away. Starscream gazed up at him; Primus, he was so gentle most of the time that you could almost forget how big he was. Starscream’s wings dipped down his back in an unconscious show of deference.

The next moment, Optimus’s posture relaxed and all the anger went out of his fields. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he sighed.

“You do?”

Optimus rubbed his helm and said, “You were vulnerable earlier. I understand that kindness is in short supply among the Decepticons, it makes sense that you would be unused to it. You are trying to make me angry at you because that is more familiar.”

“Pssh. You think you have me all figured out,” Starscream said. He crossed his arms and looked away.

“You think we will change our minds about letting you stay here,” Optimus went on. He returned to the couch and sat back down at Starscream’s side. “You believe if you push us away first, it will be easier because it would feel like your decision.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” Starscream muttered.

“You underestimate how determined I can be,” Optimus said, and when Starscream looked at him he was surprised to see an almost sly smile on his face. “I will not give up on you that easily, Starscream. You have my word.”

“Hmph. What if I'm just another lost cause?"

“Well, then, it is a good thing I have a soft spot for lost causes,” said Optimus. “Now, I would like to finish these reports before I attempt to recharge. You are welcome to stay, unless you would prefer to return to your berth.”

“I’ll stay a while,” said Starscream. He felt wrung out from lack of recharge and his emotional rollercoaster, to the point that he was struggling to keep his optics open. As Optimus stood up, Starscream scooted deeper into the couch’s softness and drew his feet up and hugged his knees. If he went back to his room he would be alone with his thoughts and his dreams again, and he wasn’t ready for round two. Optimus nodded and then returned to the computer to continue his work. Starscream watched his back. He had the lighting in the room turned down low, so the gently flickering computer screen was the brightest thing there, and the soft drumming of Optimus’s typing blurred into a soothing white noise. Starscream yawned and lay down on his side, his wings folded neatly down his back. He had not willingly recharged in another bot’s presence since his trine had been alive, and he hadn’t intended to do so now, but it was so quiet, and he was so tired, and he felt more comfortable in the presence of his supposed enemy than he did alone. Megatron wouldn’t dare to haunt his dreams with Optimus around, he thought sleepily. He fell into recharge before he knew it, and dreamed about flying through clear blue skies.


	4. Chapter 4

Without either of them planning it, Optimus and Starscream’s late night tête-à-têtes became a routine. Not every night, but often enough to be a habit, Starscream would tip-toe from his room to the centre of the silo complex, where he invariably found Optimus poring over some mind-numbingly boring drudge-work. Sometimes they talked for an hour or more, other nights they merely exchanged a tired nod before Starscream took up his place on the couch and let the quiet sounds of Optimus’s work lull him to sleep. He rested better in the Prime’s presence than he had in aeons.

One night, he was surprised to find Optimus not poised at the terminal but on the couch in what Starscream had too quickly come to think of as _his_ place, reading a datapad. Optimus heard him approach and looked up with a smile, and patted the seat next to him. Starscream wasn’t used to bots being pleased to see him, so he was hesitant as he joined Optimus on the couch. “Slacking on the job?” he said.

Optimus chuckled and replied, “In truth, there is very little left to be done. Our archives have never been so organised, and Ratchet refuses to let me touch his files.”

“Patient confidentiality is _so_ inconvenient, isn’t it?”

“Even if it were not, I believe there is a limit to how much meddling my old friend will tolerate, even from me.”

“Maybe you should try some of that sleeping draught he gave me. It tastes awful by the way.”

“You are welcome. However, I am not sure if it would work. One benefit of carrying the Matrix of Leadership is that anything other than plain energon is usually filtered out of my system very quickly. It provides an efficient protection against poisons or other side-effects from impure fuel. Sadly this means that many medicines also lose their beneficial effect.”

“Handy,” Starscream said sarcastically. “Does that extend to high-grade as well?”

“The Matrix upgraded my frame to be incredibly fuel efficient.”

“Does that mean you can’t even get over-charged?”

“I have never tried,” said Optimus. “But I would assume so.”

“Never tried? Prime, what kind of life have you been living?” Starscream laughed.

“Alas, leading the Autobots through four million years of war has not left much time for drunken revelry,” Optimus said. “As Arcee so eloquently puts it: ‘Primes don’t party’.”

Starscream snorted with involuntary laughter. “Well then,” he said. “Thank the Unmaker you have me here now to be a terrible influence. First thing tomorrow I’m going to requisition the equipment from Ratchet to start distilling the closest thing to engex we can get on this horrible organic planet.” Of course, there was no way the Hatchet would allow his valuable equipment to be used for such a project, but the idea made Starscream grin. Optimus looked at him rather like one would at a mischievous sparkling and shook his head, but the lightness of his fields gave away his amusement. Starscream’s spark did an unfamiliar flutter. He liked being able to make Optimus Prime laugh, even if it was only a ripple of mirth in his energy fields. He liked having his attention on him. It made him feel special and confident, and Optimus’s approval buoyed his spark.

He nodded to the datapad in Optimus’s big hands. “What are you reading?”

“Ah…” Optimus looked down shyly. He took a moment to remind himself that no-one else was around to hear him. It was only he and Starscream. “A short time ago you mentioned Vosian poetry, and it prompted me to think about how much of Cybertronian culture has been lost over the years. Of the files and archives we do have saved from before the war, most of them contain data that may aid us in our cause… official documents, maps, schematics. For so long, the war between Autobots and Decepticons has dominated our history. I fear that even if this conflict were to end tomorrow, too much has already been lost to ever hope to restore even a fraction of who and what we once were.” He stared down at his datapad, fiddled with it while he avoided looking at Starscream. The Decepticon likely already thought him a sentimental fool, and normally that wouldn’t bother him, but for some reason he felt vulnerable about this. Perhaps it was because of the specific content of the pad…

“You’re afraid we’ve forgotten how to be anything but war machines?” Starscream said.

Optimus took a deep breath, and handed Starscream the datapad. “Therefore, I have begun to compile and recover as many files as I can of Cybertronian art, literature, philosophy… Anything I can find. Perhaps one day the library at Iacon might be rebuilt. If that happens, I would like to be able to stock those archives with as much of our history and culture as I can, for the benefit of future generations.” Starscream paged through the files on the datapad, his brows drawing together. “It is a paltry collection,” Optimus said. “But I hope, with time—”

“Some of these are in Vosian,” Starscream interrupted. He tilted the pad so Optimus could see the screen. The action caused them to move closer to one another until their shoulders brushed. “Can you read Vosian?”

“Ah… Sadly, I only have a very basic lexicon installed.”

“This is from the Epic of Halcyon and Sunwing,” said Starscream. “Do you know it?”

“I am ashamed to say I have only the most passing knowledge of the tale,” said Optimus. “I have been unable to locate a translated copy since the fall of Cybertron.”

“Pshh, the translation. The original Vosian is far superior. So much of the nuance gets lost in translation.”

“I had no idea you had such an appreciation for the arts,” Optimus remarked.

“I received a thorough and varied education growing up in the Vosian royal complex,” he said. “Sciences, mathematics, politics and history, of course, but also literature, drama, and art. And no, you will never see any of my holo-paintings. Here, this part always struck me… It’s quintessential Twirlwind, the way he uses the language… Let’s see, it’s been a few million years since I read this…” Starscream cleared his throat. He then proceeded to read from the datapad in Vosian. All Optimus heard was a melodious babble of syllables, clicks, and chirrups, accompanied here and there by cryptic movements of Starscream’s wings. Optimus caught the occasional word, but the greater meaning eluded him entirely. Even so, it was a pleasant language to listen to, and Starscream read it well. His rich voice flowed over Optimus’s audio sensors like an intimate caress, and Optimus found himself fascinated by the soft light of Starscream’s optics. He somehow conveyed the emotion of the piece even though Optimus didn’t understand the words.

When he reached the end of the last line, Starscream looked up. He smiled sheepishly. “Did you get any of that?”

“I am afraid not,” Optimus admitted. “But thank you for reading it to me. It is a beautiful language.”

“Here, follow along with me. This is a speech Sunwing gives to his sparkmate, Halcyon. They’re lovers, but they belong to rival clans, and are forbidden to be together. In the final act they must face each other in battle. Now then, where are we…” Starscream leaned closer still, angled the datapad, and ran the tip of his claw along the first line as he read: “The tilt of your wing reflects the dawn light, like a bright blade to my spark…” Optimus followed Starscream’s claw with his optics and scanned the foreign glyphs on the screen as he read them. Starscream spoke more slowly now, without the smooth rhythm he’d had before, as he was translating in real-time. “Such sweet pain I have never endured, and I gladly welcome more by your delicate hand. Though I would rather rejoin Primus in the Beyond than risk harm to the spark of my spark, I will not dishonour you with surrender. Let us dance one last glorious sky-dance, cut the heavens to ribbons with our wing-tips, and write the depth of our love across the skies in glyphs of lightning. For I would rather die here, together, with you, than live another decacycle without the taste of your sweet kiss.” He paused and glanced up. Optimus realised only now how close they were, and for a moment they were frozen, optics locked, until Optimus’s gaze flicked down to the seeker’s mouth. He leaned closer, drawn in as if by gravity. He heard Starscream’s soft intake of breath, felt the heady pulse of his energy field.

Abruptly, Starscream sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s much better in Vosian,” he said. He wasn’t looking at Optimus any more, and Optimus experienced an inexplicable wave of irritation at that. “If it’s any consolation, the Neo-Cybex version is even worse.” He handed the datapad back while keeping his gaze firmly averted.

Optimus looked down at the page. He wondered about Starscream’s background, how it must have been growing up in that jewel of a city, Vos, surrounded by wealth and sophistication. How different it must have been to his circumstances now. The Autobots’ humble lodgings must seem so far beneath him. Even though Optimus had never known the same kind of poverty Megatronus contended with, his youth as an archivist in Iacon had hardly been spent in the lap of luxury. He had worked long hours in a cold office, transcribing and cross-referencing documents and data cylinders for a modest salary. He was not ashamed of his origins—Orion Pax had been a good mech, even if he was nothing special until the Matrix thrust a destiny upon him—but when he thought about Starscream living in the Vosian palace, it made the differences between them starker than ever.

Putting such doubts from his mind, he said, “There is one thing I do not understand. If Halcyon and Sunwing were lovers, why would they agree to fight each other? Surely either one of them could have surrendered.”

“Megatron was your friend once,” Starscream said. “Would you ever surrender to him, just for the sake of that friendship?”

“If it was in the best interests of the Cybertronian race? I would surrender in a spark-beat. But not for any other reason, no.”

“If either of the lovers had surrendered, it would have been at the expense of their clan. It would also be a kind of insult… like saying the other was not worthy of battling.”

“I admit I find this difficult to grasp…”

“Ancient Vosians were warriors as well as poets,” Starscream explained, flexing his claws and smirking. “We are historically a proud and stubborn race. Let me put it this way: you thought Kaonites were bloodthirsty? They’re nothing on seekers.”

* * *

In the morning, the easy camaraderie between Starscream and Optimus was chased away by the sunlight. In front of the other Autobots, Starscream was tense and awkward, and towards Optimus he was deferential and distant. There was none of the biting wit or sarcasm that made him such an enjoyable conversation partner, and Optimus missed what he had begun to think of as the “real” Starscream. He, too, retreated into the role of Prime and leader, even though more and more he longed to drop the formality and interact more casually with the seeker. Starscream was a puzzle that just kept revealing more unexpected facets, and Optimus would have been content to spend hours digging deeper into his processor. Just months ago, when he and Starscream had been on opposite sides, he would never have expected the Decepticon Air Commander to have a sensitive appreciation for poetry, or to tease him about his straight-laced habits. When he replayed the memory of Starscream’s fiendish smirk, or the deep growl of his vocals as he read Vosian love poetry, Optimus had to give himself a mental shake. He thought the connection they were forging was authentic, and it was good that Starscream was coming out of his shell, but the light of day brought with it a stern reality check: Starscream was an ally of the Autobots and therefore under Optimus’s protection. That meant that he could not encourage too much familiarity, and he absolutely could not develop any feelings for the seeker other than friendship—and even that ought to remain at a healthy distance. It was part and parcel of being leader. His team needed to be able to trust him and come to him about anything, and he needed to set a good example and not do anything to jeopardise that trust. If Starscream were to feel in any way pressured to form a romantic attachment… well. Optimus already knew Starscream would do just about anything to remain safe from Megatron, including begging on his knees. What else might he do, if he felt he had no other option? Optimus never wanted to take advantage of a bot like that, even by accident. He would never be able to live with himself.

Such thoughts were premature, of course. Nothing untoward had happened. He was merely interested in Starscream as a colleague and friend; his quick mind kept Optimus on his toes with stimulating conversation, and his distinctly Decepticon-like charm was a breath of fresh air that meant each evening spent with him brought something new and unexpected. He had an air of danger about him, for obvious reasons. Optimus knew himself well enough to admit he had always been drawn to bots like that—exciting, disreputable mechs whose company piqued his curiosity and promised to draw him out of his staid, bookish life and into some adventure. It was that inclination that had drawn him to Megatronus, and look how well that had turned out.

But he wasn’t a naive young archivist any more. He was older, and he liked to think wiser. He’d had enough adventure for a hundred lifetimes.

He could cultivate an appropriate relationship with Starscream and help him adjust to life among the Autobots, get him integrated into the team, and act as a mentor and confidante as the seeker found his way upon his new life path. Nothing more. As Prime, Optimus didn’t have the luxury of devoting all his energy to personal relationships, no matter how compelling they might be. It was his duty to stand apart from others and to put his dedication to Cybertron first above all else.

Even so, when Ratchet informed him their scanners had picked up traces of a real Cybertronian data-cylinder right there on Earth, a small and guilty part of Optimus hoped it would contain not the weapon schematics or scientific data that could help the Autobots to win this endless war, but stories, art, or even Vosian love poetry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading for your patience and support! Every kudos and comment is greatly appreciated 💖

The data-cylinder they found did not contain literature, art, or, indeed, romantic verse. Instead it held the secret formula for synthetic energon. It was momentous, it was potentially the key to restoring Cybertron itself… and of course, Megatron had to frag it up.

“It is better that no one have the formula than it fall into Decepticon hands,” Optimus declared.

Starscream, who stood on the edge of the Autobots’ team meeting with his arms folded, snorted in disgust. “Is that so?” he said.

“No one asked you, ‘Con,” said Arcee, barely giving Starscream a glance.

Starscream scowled. “No? You agree, then? Well, you’re all fools.”

“Starscream-” Optimus stepped forward, through his disgruntled team-mates, but Starscream was determined to say his piece.

“I thought you were better than that,” he told Optimus, and was rewarded with a brief flash of hurt in the Prime’s optics. “Let’s just doom all of us, then, just so long as Megatron doesn’t get a win. I got used to Megatron’s petty vendetta, but I thought you were supposed to be above all that.”

“Upset because your master didn’t get the formula?” Arcee said. Bumblebee whistled and made a placating gesture, seemingly warning the femme not to go down this avenue, but was ignored. “We almost lost Bulkhead, and all you can think about is your precious Megatron. Just say you want to go back to him, already!”

“Easy,” interjected Ratchet. “Bulkhead is still resting from his ordeal, he doesn’t need all of us making a racket. And you,” he said pointedly, glaring at Starscream. “Don’t talk to Optimus like that. Have some respect.”

Starscream rolled his eyes and was about to reply when Optimus did it for him: “Thank you, Ratchet, but I can speak for myself. Arcee, Starscream has made it clear for some time now that he has no desire to return to Megatron’s side. All of us here are working towards the same goal, and that is a restored and unified Cybertron. And Starscream…” Starscream didn’t shrink back when Optimus turned his stern gaze on him again, even though he wanted to. His wings, unfortunately, often had a mind of their own, and they dipped down his back. “I do understand why you are upset.”

“I’m not _upset_.”

“Believe me, I wanted to keep that formula as well. But whatever benefits the synthetic energon may have given us do not outweigh the danger of Megatron getting his hands on it. He has already abused dark energon to raise the dead. We simply cannot take the risk of whatever chaos Megatron may have wreaked with synthetic energon.”

“Cybertron is already dead. Megatron could hardly make it worse.”

“Cybertron, perhaps, but we have a duty to protect Earth as well.”

Starscream wanted to say something scathing about the revolting dust-ball of a planet they were all currently stranded on, but the disapproving gazes of all the Autobots stopped his glossa. Optimus gave him more leeway to speak his mind than Megatron ever had, but he still needed to take care not to push the limits too much. Even Optimus might bow to the majority if every member of his team wanted Starscream out.

Starscream had still been banned from assisting in field missions when the data-cylinder was retrieved, lost, and retrieved again. It was frustrating to watch from the sidelines as the Autobots snatched defeat from the jaws of victory yet again. They didn’t trust that he could get through a mission without falling apart, but let a tiny human infant onto the battlefield. But at least they had not come out of the fiasco completely empty-handed: Bulkhead, in the brief period in which there was something more than air beneath his thick helm plating, had managed to daub parts of the elusive synth-en formula on sheets of metal, the base walls, and even upon some bots’ plating. It was incomplete and out of order, but it was _something_.

“I’ll begin analysis of the formula fragments in the morning,” said Ratchet.

“I will aid you,” said Starscream, only to be faced with another wall of frowning face-plates. “What?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Ratchet said. “This work is too important to risk any mistakes. Natural energon is in such short supply on this planet, but if we can produce a synthetic form, we can manufacture all the energon we’ll ever need. The applications are limitless… fuel, ammunition, first aid…”

“What makes you think I will make mistakes?” Starscream said. “And besides, how much energon do you really need? I already handed you the keys to Decepticon energon mines and storage facilities even Megatron doesn’t know about, and it’s not as if there’s many of you to feed.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” said Arcee. “There would be more of us if it weren’t for you and your Decepticons.”

“Well, what is the point of my being here if I am not permitted to help?”

“I think there’s a floor somewhere here that needs mopping.”

“All right, all right,” Ratchet stepped between Starscream and Arcee. “Let’s break it up. We’re not going to win this war squabbling like sparklings.”

Starscream looked to Optimus, hoping he would back him up, but the Prime’s face was a closed book. “Fine,” he said, the effort to keep his temper causing his voice to come out as a sinister growl. “How foolish of me. I am only an elite energon seeker, experienced commander and, not to mention, _a trained scientist_. What possible use could my expertise be to the great Autobot cause? I will return to where my skills are clearly put to best use.” With a curl of his lip he turned and stormed away. Optimus watched him go, torn between staying with his team and following the seeker. He paused when Arcee sighed and said, “How much longer do we need to put up with that glitch?”

“That ‘glitch’ does have a point, Arcee,” said Optimus, surprising everyone. “Starscream is a highly intelligent bot with a lot to offer us. I understand that it is difficult to trust a newly reformed enemy, but I believe we would be wise to utilise his skills and experience to our advantage. Starscream was once a great asset to Megatron’s faction, as Ratchet and I remember. Isn’t that right, old friend?”

Ratchet gave him a shrewd look and said, “It’s true. Back when the fighting was at its height, no one wanted to be on a battlefield if Starscream and his seeker armada were in the sky. But that’s all the more reason to be cautious. If he decides to turn against us there could be dire consequences.”

Optimus frowned and said, “I would merely appreciate if we could all remember that there are two sides to the situation. Starscream has a short temper, but he has also been working very hard to earn a place here with us. If he feels the effort is wasted, and that he will always be unwelcome no matter what, he may decide that his time is better spent elsewhere. I would rather keep him as an ally than an adversary. I am not asking anyone to befriend him, only to work together for the greater good, in spite of our personal feelings.”

“Understood,” Arcee said grimly, and Bumblebee whistled something to the same effect. Arcee’s face gave nothing away, but her EM field was pulled tight against her frame. Optimus knew she was unhappy—he was asking a lot from her, to live and work alongside the same bot who had killed her partner. He didn’t like it either. But there wasn’t a bot in the room that didn’t have blood on their hands. If Cybertron was ever to be rebuilt, its people needed to be able to put the years of violence behind them and unite to build a better future.

“Bumblebee, Arcee, why don’t you go check on Bulkhead?” Ratchet suggested. “I believe Miko will be coming over soon to see if he’s woken up…”

Arcee stalked away with her fists clenched, and Bumblebee followed after casting a nervous glance at his leaders. That left Optimus and Ratchet alone. Optimus sighed and rubbed the front of his helm. Arcee was angry and hurt, Bumblebee was anxious, and Bulkhead was still in a coma after the data-cylinder almost overrode his brain module. And Starscream was upset, and Optimus couldn’t shake the feeling he had let him down.

“If Starscream is trying to earn our goodwill, he’s doing a lousy job of it,” Ratchet said, pulling Optimus out of his gloomy thoughts. “I know you always want to see the best in everyone, Optimus, but maybe it’s time we consider the possibility of this collaboration not working out?”

“What?” Optimus was surprised. As far as he was concerned, they were still in the early days of getting used to each other. Of course there would be some friction along the way, but he was sure they would work it out in the end. When he thought about Starscream leaving, he got an uncomfortable ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. “No,” he said emphatically. “If we want Starscream to change for the better, we must give him the chance to really try.”

“Mhmm,” Ratchet said, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t say any more, but he didn’t have to. Optimus and Ratchet had known each other for so long, Optimus couldn’t keep any secrets from him. Optimus’s armour prickled in embarrassment and he cleared his throat.

“Please begin deciphering the synthetic energon formula as soon as possible,” Optimus said stiffly.

“Of course,” said Ratchet. Then, before they parted ways, he set a reassuring hand on Optimus’s shoulder. Optimus relaxed. He knew that whatever happened, even if they disagreed, he would always be able to rely on Ratchet’s friendship and support.

He wasn’t sure he could yet say the same for Starscream.

After Ratchet returned to the little space he had carved out as a combined laboratory and med-bay, Optimus turned his steps in the opposite direction and went to find Starscream.

He tried the seeker’s room first, but his knock yielded only silence. He listened a moment at the door and decided Starscream wasn’t there, and so he moved on. He didn’t find him until he was deep in the bowels of the complex, in a dark corridor with walls and ceiling lined with all sorts of industrial tubing. He was scrubbing the same bit of floor with a stiff brush over and over, and looked like he would continue until he’d worn a hole in the concrete. He didn’t look up when Optimus approached, but Optimus could tell he knew he was there because Starscream’s wings twitched once and then gave a curious little shiver. For a Decepticon, Starscream was hardly a master of deception.

Optimus folded his arms and watched Starscream work for a moment, before crouching down in front of him. Starscream scowled but kept his gaze stubbornly on the floor. The harsh smell of solvent stung Optimus’s sensors. Optimus considered how to approach the problem before allowing himself a little smirk behind his mask and saying, “You have missed a spot.”

Starscream froze. His optics flared bright, and then narrowed. He actually scanned the area of floor he was scraping at for a moment, before finally glaring up at Optimus. Optimus met his gaze mildly and pointed to an arbitrary piece of floor—one already lacking its top surface layer thanks to Starscream’s overzealous scrubbing. “You should probably go over this part one more time. Just to be safe.” Starscream glanced down, then back up, and then, when he realised it was a ruse, he threw his brush down with a snarl. He started to get up, but Optimus grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. He acted on pure instinct and wrapped his arms around the seeker, and suffered some scrapes as the sharp edges and points of Starscream’s armour jabbed him while he squirmed.

“Let go of me!" Starscream hissed. "How dare you? How dare you make fun of me? You’re just like them, you’re just like all the rest of them-”

“Shh.” Starscream was working himself up into a full-blown tantrum, and Optimus didn’t want that. “I am not making fun of you. Please, Starscream.” He rubbed Starscream’s back until he stopped actively trying to escape, and then he loosened his grip. Starscream could slip away now if he really wanted to, but as his fit of temper receded his frame slumped against Optimus’s instead, and then, to Optimus’s surprise, Starscream wrapped his arms around Optimus’s waist. Warmth blossomed in Optimus’s spark. “I have you,” he murmured, and cradled the back of Starscream’s helm as the seeker hid his face against Optimus’s windshield.

“I must apologise once more, it seems,” said Optimus. “You looked to me for support and I failed you.”

“It’s not that,” Starscream muttered. He surreptitiously rubbed at his optics. How could he tell Optimus that he was more angry at himself than at the Prime? That even when he set his mind to trying to be as likable and ingratiating as possible, he still inspired nothing but distrust and hatred? Maybe his problems with Megatron weren’t the old tyrant’s fault after all—maybe Starscream was just legitimately unlovable. It sounded pitiful even when he thought it, so there was no way he was going to give it voice.

“I see your worth,” Optimus said, very quietly, and Starscream stilled. “You are clever and talented, you work hard, and you are brave. Yes, you are—walking away from Megatron and the Decepticons must have taken great courage. And watching you fly is a privilege, not to mention no other bot I know has a better grasp of Vosian poetry. I am grateful to have been given this chance to know you, Starscream.”

“Shut up.” Starscream looked up into Optimus’s optics.

“I am sorry,” Optimus said, “about the data-cylinder. I wish there could have been another way.”

The loss of the synthetic energon data still stung—curse these Autobots and their principles—but that didn’t mean Cybertron was lost. If one cylinder made it to Earth, who was to say others didn’t do the same? There would be other opportunities, other ways to remake their home world. Starscream had no interest in ruling over a dead planet. He would never give up until Cybertron was returned to its former glory, until it was fit for his rule.

He didn’t tell Optimus that, of course. Instead he only shrugged, and stroked the tips of his claws absently up and down on Optimus’s back. Now he was calmer, he couldn’t help but realise how close he and Optimus were; he was nestled in Optimus’s arms, and Optimus’s big hands moved gently over Starscream’s back and helm while his engine rumbled, a pleasant purr that Starscream could feel in his own chest. Optimus retracted his mask and smiled the soft, small smile that Starscream was beginning to think was reserved only for him. It belonged to the bot he spent his late nights with talking about everything and nothing, who couldn’t be further from the stiff and unreachable leader he knew in the day time. With a spark full of gratitude and affection, he knelt up higher and pressed his lips to Optimus’s in an impulsive kiss.

He knew at once he had made a mistake.

Optimus stiffened. His arms around Starscream first became rigid, and then retreated. _Frag!_ Starscream thought. _What the frag had he been thinking?_ Optimus drew back and Starscream wished the ground would swallow him. The look on Optimus’s face said it all: Optimus had been acting out of kindness and duty, and Starscream had been so giddy from the attention he had misinterpreted it as something more than it was. He had lost sight of his plan and the only one he had tricked was himself.

“Starscream, I cannot—… we should not—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Starscream said. He shot to his feet and knocked over his bucket of solvent in the process. Why did he have to be so stupid? He’d wanted to earn the Prime’s trust and favour, but not like _that_!

Optimus rose and looked as though he wanted to say something, but then his mask snapped back into place and he said, “I should go…”

After Optimus turned and left, Starscream clawed at his face in pure frustration. All these weeks of work, ruined in an instant! He had made mistakes before, but this one was… monumental.

The human child succeeded in reviving the Wrecker, more’s the pity, and all was once again well at the Autobot base. Starscream didn’t get involved. He wanted to go flying, but to do so he would have to use the ground bridge in the main room, which meant running into the Autobots, maybe even Optimus, and he wasn’t prepared for that yet. So he hid in his room and read snippets of Cybertronian novels and plays Optimus had sent him before Starscream screwed everything up. Gradually, the base became quiet as night fell and the bots retired to rest. Starscream tried to rest too, but he knew it was a losing battle. He considered the medicine Ratchet had brewed for him, but he was so tense he didn’t think it would do any good.

Eventually, after tossing and turning for hours, he gave up and stalked through the hallways until he reached the main chamber.

Optimus wasn’t there.

His usual post was vacant, as was the couch Starscream liked to sleep on. Ratchet’s little med-bay was just as empty, so Starscream assumed Bulkhead had returned to his own quarters no worse for wear. The room seemed so strangely quiet now Starscream was alone. His footsteps echoed in a way he didn’t remember them doing before, and even his intakes sounded inordinately loud. He sat on the couch for a minute but he knew he would find no rest there tonight. He fiddled with the computer terminal. Optimus hadn’t left anything running, so Starscream lost interest.

He could activate the ground bridge from here and escape, go for a long flight in the cool, crisp night and clear his head. Maybe he would fly into a thunderstorm and crash horribly, and then he wouldn’t have to face Optimus in the morning.

He groaned and moved on to Ratchet’s workspace. Here the bits of wood, metal, and other sundry materials Bulkhead had used to write the synth-en formula were stacked so high they were almost toppling over. He could see where Ratchet had begun to put them into some semblance of order, but the task was only just begun. Bulkhead had left them a puzzle, an incredibly intricate and maddening puzzle with half its pieces missing that would be all but impossible to solve.

Starscream looked through another stack of fragments, this one in total disarray. The little human was most likely responsible for this chaos; Ratchet would never stand for it. Starscream idly pushed the pieces around, just like a puzzle, until, by chance, he found two that seemed to go together. He blinked, and then reached for a datapad and stylus and jotted the newly created phrase down. This was highly advanced chemistry, bordering on alchemy. Starscream had only been curious, but now he found himself fascinated, his keen processor eager to tackle the new challenge after weeks of dull, unchallenging drudgery. He pulled over a stool and perched on it, before spreading out more of the roughly scribbled glyphs across the workbench. Soon he was completely absorbed, scribbling equations and notes on the datapad until his nervous energy left him and he succumbed to recharge right where he was, and where Ratchet found him the next morning, slumped over the workbench with his head pillowed on his arms with pieces of the puzzle spread all around him.


End file.
